Ling Hong returned from his hunt, rinsing the scent of blood off in the river before heading home. The moment he lifted the door flap, he saw An Jin nestled in a pile of straw, holding a small stone jar.
"Come over here, quick!"
She beckoned to him conspiratorially.
Ling Hong paused, inwardly puzzled, but walked toward her with his usual calm expression.
Before he could react, An Jin had quickly scooped up a fingerful of white cream and smeared it on his face.
His cheeks, forehead, the tip of his nose, and his chin—none were spared.
Ling Hong grabbed her small hand as it came at him again. The sticky feeling on his face was very uncomfortable. "Stop messing around."
An Jin pulled her hand free from his, stirred the white liquid in the Stone bowl, and pouted. "I'm not messing around!"
'She was clearly trying to develop their livelihood, racking her brains for a way to make money.'
